Fight Club
by Lady-Thetis
Summary: Chi-chi Mau. She's alone, frustrated, addicted to support groups that meet in church basements, and working with car crashes. Then she meets Bulma Durden, stragely unattached and refreshing. They start a fight club, which changes them both. CCG, BV
1. Insomnia

Disclaimer: Holy Shit. I really need a huge disclaimer for this. I have the script for Fight Club open on my computer and I keep alternating between that and my Word Document. I do not own Fight Club, it was written by Jim Uhls. Many of the conversations are direct copies of those held in fight Club. By no means do I think of them as my own brainchild. I don't own the characters either; those belong to Akira Toriyama. Damn, I'm such a freeloader.  
  
Anyway, this is a B/V and G/CC. And for those of you who've seen fight club, this has a different story line pertaining to the characters.  
  
Fight Club  
  
Chapter 1: Insomnia.  
  
Chi-chi couldn't sleep. She lay on her bed, watching the ceiling fan spin, round and round. A fly buzzed somewhere, but Chi-Chi didn't care. She hadn't slept in god only knew how long.  
  
With insomnia, nothing is real. Everything is a copy of a copy of a copy. Things seem far away, like you're detached from the world, only watching.  
  
She made up her mind to go to the doctor the next day.  
  
---------------At the doctor's office---------------  
  
The doctor looked at her with poorly veiled amusement.  
  
"No, you can't die from insomnia." She said, consulting her folder once again.  
  
"Well, what about narcolepsy? I doze off and find myself in strange places." Chi-chi pleaded. She wasn't giving up. This was her last hope.  
  
"No, not from narcolepsy either." The doctor said, getting to her feet.  
  
"Look, doc, you need to help me! I haven't slept for weeks! I need something! Anything!" Chi-chi pleaded, standing up as well.  
  
"You need to lighten up," the doctor said, shaking her head with a little annoyance. "Listen: what you really need is some good, natural sleep. Chew some valerian root and get some exercise." She began to walk away.  
  
"Doctor, look at my face! I'm in pain here!" Chi-chi pleaded.  
  
"Pain? You wanna know what pain is? Swing by the First Methodist Tuesday nights. See the men with testicular cancer. That's pain." And with that, she walked away.  
  
"But I'm a." Chi-chi's response fell into the silence. "Woman."  
  
---------------First Methodist---------------  
  
At seven fifteen, Chi-chi left her house and drove to First Methodist. She was a little nervous, seeing as how she was a woman and thus impossible for her to have testicular cancer.  
  
But her curiosity had been peeked. She had to see what her (lady) doctor had been talking about.  
  
As she drove, she worked out story. She'd tell them (if the subject ever came up) that her brother had died of testicular cancer and had requested that her family find some people with the same cancer and support them  
  
Chi-chi walked in to find a group of men still gathering. She'd made it there early. The men stared at her.  
  
"Can I help you?" Chi-chi turned to the voice. A middle-aged man regarded her with kind eyes and a small, sad smile. His nametag read, 'Hello, my name is Ronald.'  
  
"Yes," she said quietly, taking a step towards Ronald. Time to unleash her story. "Would you mind if I sat in on today's session? My," she sniffed a little. "You see, my brother died of testicular cancer and *sniff* his last request was that his family try and support all the men who were taken to his same fate." She let the tears trickle a little. Ronald smiled at her.  
  
"Of course. Go no further." he paused. "Uh, what was your name?"  
  
"Cornelia." She said. Ronald smiled and walked off, promising to make her a nametag. Play it safe, she told herself.  
  
Later, as Chi-chi sat listening to Thomas speak of his life, she understood what her doctor had meant.  
  
"I-I wanted three kids. Two boys and a girl. My wife, Molly, she wanted two girls and a boy. We could never agree," Thomas said with a sad smile. A couple men laughed, trying to lighten the mood.  
  
"Well, last month, Molly gave birth to a baby girl," he paused, took a deep breath. "With her new husband." He paused again. "And thank God! I'm so glad for her because she deserves." Thomas looked down, holding back a sob and unable to continue. Ronald got up and put his hands on Thomas's shoulder.  
  
"Let's all thank Thomas for sharing himself with us." Ronald said gently. Chi-chi obliged, as did everyone else.  
  
"Thank you, Thomas," she murmured. What a cruel fate to have to come to terms with!  
  
"Now, it's time for the one-on-ones. Everyone, find a partner. I want everyone to really open up like Thomas did here." Ronald then led Thomas off to recompose himself.  
  
Chi-chi remained sitting, figuring she would be the odd man out. Not that she minded. She would have been a little uncomfortable sharing with someone.  
  
And then she saw Bob. He was a moose of a man, roughly 45 years old with short brown hair, and he had tits. Bitch tits.  
  
"Come on, sweetie. You need a partner too." He said, opening his arms. Chi- chi stood up and Bob enveloped her in a bear hug. Chi-chi found her head between to large, sweaty tits. She patted his back, unsure what to do.  
  
It turned out that Bob was a body builder who used to do a late night infomercial on expanding your chest.  
  
"I took steroids. I was a juicer. Normal stuff at first, but then Wisterol. It was for race horses, for chrissakes!" He sniffed. "Now I'm bankrupt, divorced, and my two grown kids won't even return my phone calls!" He cried some more and then took a step back. He held Chi-chi at arm length and smiled sadly at her.  
  
"Now your turn to cry, little lady." He said, bringing her back into a bone- crushing hug.  
  
At first, Chi-chi was speechless. But, something happened. She became lost in oblivion, dark, silent, and complete. And she started crying. She tightened her grip around Bob, sobbing uncontrollably. Bob put his cheek on the top of Chi-chi's head and closed his eyes, whispering sweet nothings like, "that's right, keep crying" and "Let it all out."  
  
She had found freedom. She lost all hope and thus, there was freedom.  
  
Babies didn't sleep as well as Chi-chi did.  
  
---------------Later---------------  
  
After that, Chichi was addicted. She took flyers and checked newspapers, looking for support groups. She didn't ever go back to testicular cancer, but she had a melanoma meeting every Monday, a cancer meeting on Tuesday, blood parasites on Wednesday, organic brain dementia of Thursdays, and tuberculosis on Fridays, and ascending bowel cancer on Sundays. There was also bimonthly sickle cell meeting.  
  
And for a year, things were great. She slept well, her work was better then ever and she knew a promotion was on the way and she was hardly ever in a bad mood.  
  
And then he showed up. Vegeta Ouji. It was like he knew her schedule. Every support group she went to, she saw him there. He sat there in his black outfit, smoking away. No matter how hard she glared, he never seemed to get the message.  
  
He was a faker, only there for entertainment. He didn't have any of the sicknesses that he took support groups for. He was a liar, and his lie reflected Chi-chi's lie. She couldn't cry anymore. And because she couldn't cry, she couldn't sleep.  
  
In her head, she practiced telling him off. She'd grab him by the arms when it was time for one-on-one, shake him, and start yelling at him.  
  
"Vegeta, you liar, you big tourist, I need this! Get out!" Then Chi-chi would be able to cry again. She'd cry, thus regaining her ability to sleep, and things would be better. She'd buy more items for her condo.  
  
When Chi-chi got promoted, she didn't know whether to be elated or crushed.  
  
"Congratulations, Chi-chi. The board reviewed your resume and you've been promoted to recall coordinator. That means you'll get to use the 'formula!' " He spoke about it like it was some kind of honor. For now, Chi-chi opted to be happy.  
  
"Thank you, sir, you really don't know how happy this makes me!" she said, smiling.  
  
"I have more good news for you, Chi-chi. I only hope that you didn't make any major plans for the next couple weeks." He said.  
  
"Wait, why?" She questioned, a sense of dread entering her body.  
  
"Because we had an influx of accidents with a certain model and we need you to take a look at it right away." He handed her a folder stuffed with paper along with a packet of airline coupons. "You leave tomorrow morning. Call me if you need something." He smiled and walked away.  
  
---------------On the airplane---------------  
  
Chi-chi dazed off, eyes not focused on anything. For weeks she had been in a bad dream of planes and cars that had been utterly destroyed by some accident or another.  
  
The car needed to be recalled: it was as simple as that. Sadly, her boss hadn't let her return until she had checked every car on her fucking list. He said that recalls were bad for the company and maybe, just maybe, she'd find a car that, when the formula was applied, didn't mean a recall.  
  
And she didn't sleep. She stayed up all night, staring at this or that. She grabbed sleep when she could on the plane, but even that was getting harder. With her insomnia, she was neither awake nor asleep. She floated through the day, doing actions that were so monotonous that she no longer had to tell her body what to do. It went through the motions on its own.  
  
Chi-chi was sick of the single-serving life she had been forced into. Every goddamn fucking thing in her life right now was a single serving. The food. The creamers and coffee. The mints on her pillow. Fuck it, even her friends were single serving. She'd talk to them from one place to another, but that was it. That was their only time together.  
  
But now, finally, she was going home. Well, for who knows how long until the next time she had to go away. She decided that if she resolved things with Vegeta, she'd be able to sleep. Then things would get better. She'd see.  
  
---------------That night, Cancer meeting---------------  
  
That Tuesday night was the last straw. The leader told them that Chloe wanted to speak with them. Chloe, a pale, skinny woman with a bandanna on, stood up and walked up to the podium.  
  
"Well, I'm still here," she began with a weak laugh. "I don't know how long I can say that. That's about all I can say concerning how much longer I'll be alive. But I've got some good news: I no longer fear death." She smiled when there was applause from the tiny audience.  
  
"But I'm in a pretty lonely position. No one will have sex with me. I'm so close to the end and all I want is to get laid." The leader began edging closer, at a loss for what to do. "I have pornographic movies in my apartment, and lubricants--" At this point, the leader had edged Chloe out, cutting her off in the process.  
  
"Thank you Chloe. Everyone, let's thank Chloe." Chloe walked back to her seat. "Now," the leader said. "Time for meditation." Everyone shut his or her eyes. "You're at your cave. You step inside your cave and you keep walking. You find your power animal."  
  
The first time Chi-chi had visited her cave, which was literally a cave of ice, a penguin had greeted her. "Slide." The penguin had said, and indeed, it slid forward on its stomach. This time, though, Vegeta greeted her. He reclined on a seat of ice. He took a long draft of his cigarette and looked towards Chi-chi. "Slide." He said mockingly.  
  
Chi-chi's eyes flew open. She whipped her head around and stared at Vegeta, whose eyes were shut. He still took long puffs of his cigarette.  
  
Finally, it was time for the one-on-ones. "Choose someone special to you tonight." The leader said. Chi-chi milled through the people and saw Vegeta by the coffee table. Chloe was approaching him with a desperate look in his eyes.  
  
I don't think so! Chi-chi mentally shouted. She sped up and got to him just before Chloe. She grabbed his arm and hissed into his ear.  
  
"We need to talk." He turned around and regarded her with dark black eyes. For a moment, Chi-chi was shocked into silence from the depth Vegeta's eyes held. Vegeta advanced and Chi-chi took two faltering steps back before Vegeta enveloped her in a hug. Chi-chi relaxed and put her head on his shoulder.  
  
"I'm on to you, you faker. You aren't dying," she began.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Okay, in the Tibetan philosophy, yeah, you're dying, everybody's dying, but you're not dying like Chloe over there is dying. I've seen you. You're at melanoma, tuberculosis, brain dementia-." Vegeta cut her off.  
  
"I saw you practice this." He murmured.  
  
"Practicing what?" Chi-chi asked, confused. Vegeta pulled out of the hug.  
  
"Telling me off. Is it going as well as you'd hoped.? Miss Taylor?" He said with a mean little smirk.  
  
Chi-chi was pissed. "I'll expose you."  
  
"Go ahead. I'll expose you."  
  
"Why are you doing this?" Chi-chi asked desperately.  
  
"It's cheaper then a movie and there's free coffee." He shrugged.  
  
"These are my groups! I was here before you! I've been going to them for a year!" Chi-chi said, trying to make him see reason.  
  
"Why do you do it?"  
  
Chi-chi was silent for a moment. Then she spoke up. "I dunno. I-I guess when people think you're dying, I mean really dying, they listen, instead-- "  
  
"Instead of waiting for their turn to speak." Vegeta finished for her. They shared a brief moment of recognition. Then the leader broke it. She walked by and said, "Quietly now. Share with each other."  
  
"It becomes an addiction," Chi-chi warned.  
  
"Really?"  
  
Chi-chi sighed. "Look, I can't cry with another faker around."  
  
"Not my problem."  
  
"Please, can't we work something out?" Chi-chi begged. Vegeta walked out of the church. Chi-chi ran after him. She caught up. "Look, we can split up the week. I can even suggest that you go to testicular cancer."  
  
"Well you have more of a right to be there then me." He said, walking into a laundromat. He went over to a wall lined with tiny lockers.  
  
"What?" She said.  
  
"I still have my balls. You don't have any." He flashed her a carnal smile and hit the locker. It swung open and Vegeta grabbed three watches, four bracelets, tuxedo cuffs, a necklace, earrings, and a keychain. All looked to Chi-chi like they were fakes. She rolled her eyes.  
  
"You're joking, right?"  
  
"I dunno. Am I?"  
  
"Okay, you can have melanoma, tuberculosis-" She followed him as he walked, but he cut her off.  
  
"Nah, you take tuberculosis. My smoking doesn't go over at all."  
  
"Fine. Great. You take organic brain dementia, blood parasites, and melanoma." She said. He walked into a pawn shop three shops over and walked up to the counter, setting his goods on the table.  
  
"Wait, you're selling these?"Chi-chi said, confused. Vegeta dug his foot into Chi-chi's foot.  
  
"Yes," he growled. "I'm selling some things." Chi-chi let no expression of pain grace her face. He took the money and walked out. Chi-chi was entranced. This man was such a mystery.  
  
He stopped outside and turned to face Chi-chi.  
  
"I guess that means we'll see each other at the sickle cell meeting." He said.  
  
"Fine. That's all right. I don't mind seeing you there." Chi-chi said, happy to finish the bartering up.  
  
"I guess that means this is goodbye." He shot her a fake sad face.  
  
Chi-chi rolled her eyes and gave him the finger. She was oddly said to leave the company of such an interesting man but she knew making a big deal about it was futile.  
  
"Wait!" He called out, sounding a little peeved. She turned around and watched him approach, hands in his pockets.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Maybe we should exchange phone numbers." He said gruffly.  
  
"Should we now?" Chi-chi asked. Her heart raced.  
  
"Yeah. You know, in case we wanna switch nights." They stared in each other's eyes for a couple of seconds.  
  
"Alright." Chi-chi grabbed a pen and a business card out of her pocket and scribbled a number on it. She handed it to him. He snatched it, grabbed the pen, and started writing on her hand. Chi-chi rolled her eyes. She walked away.  
  
"Miss Taylor!" He called mockingly. She turned around.  
  
"It doesn't have a name. What's your real name? Any of those that you give during sessions?"  
  
"It's Chi-chi!" And she walked away for good.  
  
Later that night, when Chi-chi got home, she transferred his number to a more durable piece of paper. She pushed play on her new age message machine.  
  
"Hey, Chi-chi, It's Bill Edwards," Oh no! Chi-chi thought. A message from your boss is never a good thing. "You have one day to write up your reports. I want them on my desk on Thursday morning. You'd better have them in, because Thursday afternoon, you leave again. There are a few new accidents you need to take a look at. Sorry we're working you so hard, Chi- chi. I know you're up to the challenge though. Show those bastards on the board what you're made of!" Chi-chi fell onto her couch. Hell was ahead of her.  
  
A/N: Well, that's chapter one. In the last week, this is the second new fan fiction I've started. I really like this one. Read and review plz! 


	2. Durden

Sudden inspiration to write. I must note that I'm trying not to depend on the text so much… I'm a year older from when I started writing this. For serious. Go read a Chuck Palahniuk novel.

Chapter 2

This was it. This was fucking it. Her single serving life. She couldn't take it anymore. What the fuck did she care about this car? That model? It needed to be recalled; she'd told her boss time and time again.

"Mr. Edwards, look, I-"

"No, you look here Mau! We've had this fucking conversation before! If there are any redeeming numbers to be found for _the_ _formula_, you're going to fucking find them! What you're suggesting as a solution is expensive! I need to know that it is our ONLY choice. And since there are still cars to be examined, guess who's going to examine them?"

Click.

What if she just didn't go? She knew what the next car would result in. And the next. And the fucking next one after that. Why even bother?

What if she went home and just breathed?

No. That wouldn't help.

She needed to get back, but not to her apartment.

To the emptiness.

She needed Bob and her face between his tits.

She needed sympathy.

She needed-

Vegeta popped into her head.

Chichi thought about calling him. When was the last time she'd had sex anyway?

She thought about Chole and felt dirty.

"There are three ways to make napalm. One, mix equal parts of gasoline and frozen orange juice…"

Chi-chi looked to her left at the woman sitting next to her. She had blue hair, blue eyes, and (almost angel) white skin. "Two, equal parts gasoline and diet cola. Three, dissolve kitty-litter in gasoline until the mixture is thick. "

"Is that so?" Chi-chi heard herself say. They all involved gasoline. Just in case someone happened to have some at hand.

"Do you know why restaurants provide kids' menus?"

Chi-chi hazarded, "So kids have choices too."

"You'd think that. It's so no one has to hear the kids fucking cry. Bad for business. Did you know that when a kid doesn't finish his meal, they save it for the next one who wants it? Imagine, some kid eating a grilled cheese sandwich that has sat untouched before two other kids. Delicious." Chi-chi had to smile. The woman stuck out her hand. "Bulma. Bulma Durden." hadn't meant to ask that. It had automatically slipped out.

"I'm Chi-chi Mau. What do you do?" Hmmm… she hadn't meant to say that. Automatic, she supposed.

"What do you mean what do I do?"

"I mean, what do you do for a living?"

"Why? So you can pretend to be interested?" She asked, peering deep into the other's eyes. Chi-chi emitted a half-laugh, half-indignant "Ugh!"

"You sound sickly desperate," Bulma noted, head cocked. Chi-chi thought of Vegeta again. She was silent. Bulma reached forward and grabbed a suitcase out from the seat in front of her.

"We have the same suitcase!" Chi-chi exclaimed. Bulma flipped hers open.

"Soap. The yardstick of civilization," she said. The suitcase was filled with neat little rows of different colored bars. "I make and sell soap."

Bulma reached into the pocket of her red leather jacket and pulled out a business card, handing it to Chi-chi.

"That's funny," Chi-chi said. "I work with crashes. Vehicular crashes." Bulma cocked an eyebrow.

Dammit. Why had she said that?

"If one were to add nitric acid to the soap-making process, one would get nitroglycerin. With enough soap, one could blow up just about anything," Bulma said.

"Is that so?" Chi-chi said. Bulma nodded in confirmation.

"If one were so inclined."

Chi-chi murmured that under her breath. She whipped her head back up and said,

"Bulma, you are by far the most interesting single-serving friend I've ever had." Bulma looked at Chi-chi, unblinking. Chi-chi leaned in closer, happy to elaborate. "You see, I'ev come up with this thing. When I travel-"

"Oh I get it alright" Bulma said, smiling crookedly. "That's very clever."

"Thank you."

"How's that working out for you?"

"Excuse me?" Chi-chi gaped, aghast.

"Being clever."

"Oh! It's- uh, it's great, I guess." Chi-chi said falteringly.

"Well keep it up then, Bulma said with a mocking smile. "Keep it up." She stood up.

"Now a question of etiquette: as I squeeze past, do I give you the ass or the crotch?" And she was gone.

Chi-chi felt empty.

So… keep reading if you just find this. I've been inspired anew.

Junior year sucks. So… do I write my term paper, due in two days (and only 1 paragraph completed) or keep going?

I think I'll write another chapter.

-Ann


	3. Fight

Chapter 3

NO SHIRTS NO SHOES YOU HAVE TO FIGHT FIGHT CLUB START

What the fuck?

She couldn't' go home. She couldn't do it.

She had no fucking home to go home to. It was gone. Freak accident? Chi-chi couldn't believe it. Someone was out to get her.

She thought about it more. No one could be out to get her because she didn't fucking know anyone. She had her designer rugs. That was all.

How about this? How about she applied _the formula_ to her own fucking life?

A number of vehicles 1

B probable rate of failure 89

C average out-of-court settlement 150,000

X priceless zero

We are defined by the choices we make.

What fucking choice am I going to make? What fucking choice?

She picked up the phone and dialed. A out-of-breath male voice answered.

"Hello?" Chi-chi hung up. She dialed a different number.

"Hello Bulma?"

-

"You buy furniture. You tell yourself: this is the last sofa I'll ever need. No matter what else happens, I've got the sofa issue handled. Then, the right set of dishes. The right dinette."

"This is how we fill up our lives." Bulma said, lighting a cigarette.

"I guess so."

"Yeah, and now it's gone."

"All gone."

"Well, insurance'll cover it. You can start over. You just have to make the list."

"What list?"

"Of all the things you owned. So you can buy them again." Bulma said matter-of-factly.

"I don't think so…" Chi-chi responded slowly.

"No? Maybe you'll get something better. Buy a plasma. That'll last you weeks."

"I'll have to file a claim first…" Chi-chi became pensive.

_"Listen: what you own ends up owning you. Fuck Martha Stewart. She's in jail anyway. Now she's got six thousand fucking toothpicks, a ball of yarn, and a glue stick."_

"…don't I?" Chi-chi wondered aloud.

"Who knows?" Bulma said. Chi-chi looked at her watch.

"It's getting late. I should get going, you know. Gotta find a hotel…" Bulma let out a disbelieving laugh. "What?"

"Option two: you could just ask me." Bulma said. "After three fucking pitchers you still can't ask me."

"Ask you what?" Chi-chi said curiously.

"You mean you called me just to have a beer and a laugh? Jesus Christ… you needed a place to stay." Bulma said.

"Oh! Hey! No, look-" Chi-chi sputtered.

"Just ask me." Bulma demanded.

"Okay… Bulma can I stay with you?" Chi-chi finally said.

"Of course you can! Let's get out of here." Bulma beamed.

As they walked past the bar, a man stood up and stopped Chi-chi from passing. He was tall, built, and mysterious. Chi-chi felt her stomach lurch and her race pulse.

_Her fucking house was gone and she wanted to get laid. _

That was all she could think about.

"Hello," the man said in an open and easy manner.

"Hi there," Chi-chi purred.

Vegeta who?

"I don't usually do this, " the man said with an embarrassed smile, "but you just… caught my eye and-" Bulma stepped in between the two of them and gave the man an up-down.

"Ah, that instinctual urge that drive man to seek a woman's loin." Bulma said with satisfaction. She grabbed Chi-chi and pulled her away. Chi-chi let her.

No really… Vegeta who! Did he have a fucking last name?

"My name is Goku!" He called out.

"Thanks Goku…" Bulma muttered. They were outside.

"Look, this is going to great and chummy and everything, but before we go, I have a favor to ask of you." Bulma said. Chi-chi shrugged. Sure. Anything. Bulma continued, pacing a few steps away.

"I mean, really! Men are so aggressive. It's a trait women look for. 'Could he protect me in a fight?' 'Is he ripped?' 'Could he lift me up and throw me against the wall?' Who fucking cares? What I wanna know is can you fucking defend yourself?" She whipped around again.

"Chi-chi, I want you to hit me as hard as you can."

Is she serious? Hit her?

Chi-chi hadn't ever hit someone in her life.

Much less a girl. A new friend.

"I don't know about that…" Chi-chi began. Bulma threw her hands up.

"Why the fuck not?" Bulma demanded. Chi-chi got angry.

"No! Why!"

"Why the fuck not?" Bulma repeated. "I've never been in a fight. Besides…

…_How much can you know about yourself if you've never been in a fight?"_

How much? What was a fight?

What did it mean?

And why shouldn't she hit Bulma?

She wasn't a guy. It was okay, since she wasn't a guy.

No…that sounded wrong too.

Bulma continued.

"I don't want to die without any scars. So hurry up! Hit me before I lose my nerve!"

"This is crazy…" Chi-chi murmured.

"What the fuck do you care? There's no one here! No one judging! Just fucking hit me, Chi-chi!"

Chi-chi shrugged and swung.

Nothing but ear, baby.

"Awwwww fuck!" Bulma exclaimed, grabbing her ear and lurching forward.

"Fuck- Dammit- Aw holy crap, I fucked it up-" Chi-chi began, moving forward to help her. Bulma held up a hand and straightened herself. She smiled.

"No. That was perfect."

And she punched Chi-chi in the face.

Lightspaindarknessohmygodamibleedingohmygodshepunchedmewhywouldshedothatwaititdoesnthurtitsnottoobadmaybeishould-

And Chi-chi punched her back.

Soon it was a free-for-all. Bulma pulled Chi-chi's hair back with a grunt and kicked her legs out from beneath her. Chi-chi rolled away, got up, grabbed Bulma and started punching her in the stomach. Bulma slipped under her arm, stepping away.

They were bouncing, jumping, light on their toes, trying to get within reach of the other without being within reach themselves.

Three girls walked out of the bar and one of them exclaimed and pointed.

The newcomers didn't pull Bulma and Chi-chi apart.

Perhaps it was the alcohol.

Perhaps it was the thrill of watching two beings struggle for existence.

Perhaps it was the pure masculine quality of it.

But they simply watched.

And waited for their turns.

-

The two girls were done. They sat side by side in the parking lot, drinking a last beer.

The silence was silent, but it was deep. It was profound.

"We should do that again," Chi-chi said at last. Bulma held her beer up in a toast.

And there you have it. It was true love.

JUST KIDDING!

Yeah, so I'm having tons of fun writing this.

Until chapter four!

I'm feeling…. An office scene, a Vegeta scene, and then, maybe a b/c scene.

Rock on!


	4. Release

Chapter 4

A/N

I'm on a role. Yeah that's right.

Jealous?

You should be.

The silence bothered Chi-chi. It bothered her a hell of a lot more than the gasping.

"Was it your boyfriend?" No.

"Do you need to talk to someone Chi-chi?" No.

"Oh my GOD! Chi-chi! What happened to you?" The best fucking thing in my life.

But the silence she couldn't bear.

She had two black eyes and some people would see her, look away, and look back with big eyes. Surprised. Chi-Chi would stare back stoically.

Yeah that's right, I have two black eyes and cuts on my face. I didn't tuck my shirt in.

What are you going to do about it?

They backed down.

Others, already knowing about the injury (water cooler gossip), would try to be nonchalant as they passed by, snuck a look, stared from the corner of their eyes. Chi-chi let them.

Her boss, Mr. Edwards, called her in at 1:35. She stood before his desk, silent.

_I'm fucking emanating defiance_.

He cleared his throat. Clasped his hands on his desk. Tried to begin.

"Miss Mau. It's- uh, well, it's good to have you back. I just want to thank you for all the hard work you've put in the last couple of weeks. You're doing this company a lot of good and- uh, suffice it to say, people are noticing…

"In any case, Miss Mau… Chi-chi, are you all right? I mean, you look… different."

"I look like shit." She challanged.

"Well, you certainly do seem a little worse for the wear."

"I feel great," she said, cutting him off.

"Be that as it may, Miss Mau, I think it would be best if we kept you here for a couple of weeks. Let you settle. We'll send Charlie out for this next batch.

"Chi-chi, I don't want you think we're demoting you. Just consider this… half-time. Like in basketball? You've got to regroup and get your head back into the game. As soon as you think you're up for jumping back in, you just let us know, though. As soon as you can give us 110 percent."

She smiled tightly and walked away.

_I can't fucking give you more than 100 percent you incompetent bastard. That's why there is a 100 percent. So you can give all you've fucking got. No one has an extra 10 percent just lying around. _

_Oh here you go, sir, here's that last 10 percent I promised you. _

-

Did she still need them?

They used to be her drugs. For about a year, she practically lived in church basements and shelters. Drinking their cheap coffee and sitting in those collapsible chairs.

After Bulma, Chi-chi felt like she didn't need anything.

The two of them had quickly settled. Chi-chi had been living on Paper Street with the enigmatic Bulma for a week now.

Life was… better. Easier. Simpler. Cleaner.

Now, a desire filled her. Chi-chi quickly identified that she didn't need the support groups.

She needed closure.

She needed to see Vegeta again.

So that night, a Monday, she went to melanoma. She arrived early and watched the people shuffle in, everyone alone. There was a sad, hushed ambiance that settled over the room, sick people who needed to forget, who needed comfort.

Chi-chi thought of Chloe.

Who needed to get laid.

Ha. Chi-chi had that much in common with them.

Finally, Vegeta came in, glorious, worshipped by a cloud of cigarette smoke, looking good in a tight black tank-top, black leather pants, and huge combat boots. He stopped in the doorway, took a drag, and blew out a ring.

Chi-chi watched it dissipate.

He was staring at her.

Her cuts weren't quite healed.

He slinked up and walked down the row behind Chi-chi's, quiet, somehow unsettling the feel of the room.

Maybe Chi-chi wasn't the only one who knew he was a fake.

He took a seat behind her and leaned forward. Breathing into her face, he said,

"You look like shit." Chi-chi turned to him and offered a weak half-smile. "Where the hell have you been?" he growled.

"What do you mean? You mean sickle-cell?" She asked. That was the only meeting they still had in common.

"I cheated. I went to all of yours for a week. You missed all of them."

"Working," she said. The thought depressed her. She didn't want to be reminded. "Look, I don't think I'll be coming-" Just then, the leader stood up and started talking.

"Welcome back, everyone. It's great to see your faces, whether old or new. I'd like to take this time to allow a moment of silence for those of us who won't be coming back."

Chi-chi bowed her head.

_"Who the fuck cares?"_ Vegeta growled into her ear. She shivered. He sat back, satisfied, kicking his legs up onto the chair next to Chi-chi's.

-

It was time for one-on-one.

"Let it out, share yourself," the leader advised, walking around.

Vegeta grabbed Chi-chi and pulled her into a dark corner. She stopped him, pulling back.

"I think you need to share yourself, Vegeta," she said with big eyes, mocking him. She held her arms open for a hug.

He stepped into her arms.

And grabbed her ass.

_Oh, hi there. _

"What were you saying before?" He whispered into her ear. Chi-chi couldn't let herself be distracted.

"They're all yours, Vegeta. Congratulations. You've won. I won't be coming back." He ignored her.

"What are all those cuts on your face? It kinda looks like someone punched you in the eyes… and it's just now healing. Either that, or you forgot to put on makeup today. You're extremely ugly."

"Maybe I was in a fight," she said, for a moment proud.

"Ha! More like your boyfriend beats you," Vegeta snorted. He paused. "Does he?"

"I was in a fight," she repeated.

"With your boyfriend," he insisted.

"I don't have a boyfriend!"

She felt stupid.

"No big surprise there."

It all started combining.

Their position, the lighting, the tension, the weeks and weeks of separation, the lust, the need, the urge, the drive.

Soon they were kissing. Furiously.

_'Can he throw me against a wall?' _Bulma mocked.

Check.

Chi-chi pushed him away. This was way too public.

The meeting was over.

People filed out.

Chi-chi raced past them, trying not to push.

"Hey!" She heard him call. He caught up to her. "Hey, what the fuck! What do you think you're doing?" She turned around. She was done with pretending.

Pretending that buying things made her happy.

Pretending that she liked her job.

Pretending that their support was real, that they really cared.

"Vegeta! I think I hate you! But you know what? I haven't had sex in… I don't know how long! And I want to fuck you! I don't know why!"

He smirked. "I'm hardly surprised."

How male. Confidence.

Yet so attractive.

"Tell me you feel differently," she demanded. He faltered. She rolled her eyes.

Men can't handle non-physical confrontation.

So she made it physical.

She grabbed his neck and rammed her lips onto his. She forced her tongue into his mouth. He took a step back, and then he responded. He grabbed her butt with one hand and with his other, took her right leg and drew it next to his side.

The horizontal dance turned vertical.

Goku would probably be good at this too.

Chi-chi stopped him.

"I guess you don't," she said, and pulled away. She turned around and started walking, heart pounding.

She hoped he wouldn't let her.

"Where the fuck do you think you're going?" He said, incredulous and out of breath. She stopped, smiled, and said sweetly,

"Where do you live?"

A/N

Awww…. They're doing the nasty.

Okay, soon I'm going to expand and it won't be just about sexual tension and sex anymore. I realize that it's a bit much.

Next, we'll get them back to the bar.

Fight Club, anyone?

Anyway, no B/V, so sorry. It's coming.


	5. Juu

Chapter 5

A/N

I've noticed that certain characters I type in Microsoft Word don't upload into onto more important things. I've finished my term paper (on SAM ADAMS BABY!), and I feel like writing another chapter…. even though it's kind of late and I should start my other homework. shrugs

-

What would Bulma do after fucking the sexiest man alive?

Chi-chi decided to play it cool. She turned over and faced Vegeta in bed.

He was already sitting up.

Chi-chi wasn't surprised.

Maybe a little disappointed. Or relieved.

"Got a smoke?" she drawled.

She felt stupid. Fake.

He looked over his shoulder at her and smirked.

"You don't smoke," he mocked.

"Baby, you make me want to start."

That was stupid.

She had to stop thinking so much.

She had to get out of there.

She got up and slipped into her panties and bra. Aware that he was watching her, she slowly wandered around the room, taking it in.

No big surprise. There were sex toys everywhere.

Beads. Porn. Kleenex. Lubricant. Lotions. Flavored condoms. Posters. Something fuzzy with a hole in the middle. Chi-chi didn't even know how one would begin to use it. She held it up with an inquisitive look.

"One hole. Figure it out," Vegeta said.

He was smoking.

Chi-chi went over and stood in front of him.

_The tension of the moment was gone, but the chemicals remained._

She smiled. He smirked.

"We should do this again later."

-

They were back.

More than a week later, and they were back.

Same place, same booth.

Different people.

Bulma had her arm slung casually over the back of the booth bench. She was eyeing Chi-chi.

"Was he good?" she asked. Chi-chi nodded emphatically.

"Oh yeah," she said. "just what I needed."

_"Listen; what if we had no drive? What if we didn't need men?"_

Chi-chi stared at her. "Are you seriously suggesting… that we do the job ourselves every time?"

Bulma only smiled at her.

"Work sucks, you know?" Chi-chi heard herself say. "You know, last week… after we fought. Man. I was pure Zen. I was enlightened. Nothing fucking mattered."

"It's like fighting does something to you, man. It's not even about the other guy. It's about… letting it out. It's about something you can fucking deal with," Bulma replied. "Everybody needs something like that."

They looked at the table. Simultaneously, they looked up and grinned.

"Again?"

-

It was night. They were outside in the almost deserted parking lot of an almost deserted bar in the middle of nowhere.

Chi-chi was wearing slacks and a collared shirt. The sleeves were rolled up and the buttons were undone. Her white wife-beater was visible.

Bulma wore loose jeans, sneakers, and a stripped and collared polo.

They were both in their late twenties. Young. Bright. Promising.

And they were pummeling the hell out of each other.

It wasn't about technique. It wasn't about skill.

It was about letting go…

and letting loose.

Suddenly, a woman with long, straight blond hair was pulling them apart. She looked torn between amusement and outrage.

"_What_ is goin' on here?" she drawled, drunk.

Chi-chi whipped out of her hold and hopped back, moving from toe to toe, arms up defending her face.

Bulma extricated herself from the woman's grasp as well.

"Enlightenment," Chi-chi breathed. She was ready for more.

But Bulma was examining the newcomer. She took in the rich clothes, the pristine makeup, the perfect hair.

"A poor, spoiled, misunderstood, little rich kid…"

"Excuse me?" the woman gasped.

"You heard me. No one understands you. You have to go to poor bars where no one knows you, where you know they give it rough. You won't even admit you like to make yourself feel better by comparison," Bulma said.

"You don't even fucking know me," the newcomer said, silently raging. Bulma cocked her head.

"Don't I? Dirty little wasp, aren't you?"

The woman, her rage amplified by the alcohol, reached back and laid into Bulma's face.

Bulma fell back with a thud, stood up, and smiled.

Soon the two of them were at it.

And Chi-chi was screaming at the top of her lungs.

Cheering. Roaring. Rousing. Goading. Spurring.

-

There was just something about it. You felt better.

It wasn't that your problems were solved.

It was that you didn't have any problems.

Not even the bruises. The cuts. The minor injuries.

They sat there, the three of them, silent. Bulma relaxed with her head between her legs. The woman drank a beer. Chi-chi wiggled a tooth back and forth. Back and forth.

"I'm Juu," the woman said. "and I think we should do this again."

Chi-chi smiled.

It's all they had, anyway.

A/N

Okay we have our key players. I'm at a loss for which other women I should include.

Marron? Lunch?

I guess I'll have to introduce some original characters.

So… yeah. Rock on. Time to go workout!


End file.
